


Sylvia

by Silverstreams



Series: Hospice [4]
Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverstreams/pseuds/Silverstreams
Summary: "Go back to screaming, and cursing, remind me again how everyone betrayed you."Caroline hasn't been to Cave's bedside in a week.





	Sylvia

**Author's Note:**

> "Please, curtains in. Start us off...You swing first. Sorry. I don't know what I said, but you're crying now again, and that only makes it worse. Let me do my job. Let me do my job.
> 
> Sylvia, get your head out of the oven. Go back to screaming, and cursing, remind me again how everyone betrayed you. Sylvia, get your head out of the covers. Let me take your temperature, you can throw the thermometer right back at me, if that's what you want to do, okay?"  
> \--"Sylvia" by The Antlers

Something major was wrong, they said. She had to get down there right away. He was inconsolable. They didn’t know what to do with him. 

They called her during the middle of an important investor meeting, one that could have helped them get out of the massive amounts of debt. She excused herself with as much dignity as she could muster, knowing that she wouldn’t be back. They wouldn’t be investing in Aperture. She rushed down to Aperture Medical, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. What if this was it? What if he was finally dying?

One of the nurses stopped her before she could burst into Cave Johnson’s long-term hospital room. It was furnished to look as much like a normal bedroom as possible. His own bedsheets. His own pillows. His own furniture. Little touches of home. All to make him feel more comfortable at the end of his life. They had offered to move him to his house for the hospice care. But Cave Johnson couldn't bear to be separated from his beautiful facility. 

"Miss Caroline," said the nurse, reaching out to grab her sleeve as she turned the corner. "I'm not sure if I'd go in there if I were you."

"Why?" Caroline said, gaze narrowing. "What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing major," the nurse said, a bit too hurridley. "We were just having some problems earlier.”

"I was called down here to help," said Caroline. "Now tell me what's going on." 

“He’s been violent. Yelling a lot. Threatening to hurt himself. Threatening to hurt the staff.” The nurse sighed. "You'd really have to talk to the doctor--"

"Where is she?" said Caroline. 

"Gone for the day." 

"Then you'd better tell me as much as you can," said Caroline. "I can't wait until the doctor comes back." 

"Well, you know this is all new; we haven't ever had anyone sick with what Mr. Johnson has before--and we're monitoring his symptoms carefully--we're just in uncharted territory here--the doctor says--" 

"Get on with it." 

"We think he's experiencing some severe paranoia. Delusions. He's acting out because of it." 

Caroline stared at the nurse. "Like what?"

"He thinks we're trying to drug him. That we're trying to hurt him. That you've abandoned him. Some of the staff are scared of him, ma'am." 

"I'll go talk to him," she said with a heavy sigh. She wasn't scared of him. She could never be scared of him. 

She pushed open the door gently. 

"Mr. Johnson?" she said. 

The figure in the bed didn’t move. He was turned away from her, the thin blankets draped across his thin body. 

“Mr. Johnson,” she said again, approaching the bed and lightly touching him on the shoulder. 

Cave Johnson grunted. “‘Bout time you showed up,” he said, not moving. 

"I guess I haven't been down here in a few days," Caroline said, rubbing her hand on the back of her neck. Her wavy brown hair fell around her shoulders. "I've just been so busy--" 

"It's been a week." 

"Really?" Caroline said. She feigned surprise. "I guess time--"

"Just got away from ya?" 

She closed the door behind her, drawing the curtains on the little window that looked out to the hallway. "Mr. Johnson, I need to know why you threatened those nurses," she said. 

"They wanted me to take some pill I didn't recognize. Said it would calm me down, make me feel better. I said hell no, if they tried to make me take it, I’d stab them. So they stopped," he said, matter-of-fact. 

"They're just trying to help." 

"No they're not, Caroline.” He sat up in bed, pushing himself upright and turning to face her. “Have you seen the way that they look at me? They don't care whether I live or I die.” He was just some fascinating experiment to them. Some toy for them to play with. 

"That's not true," Caroline lied. 

The doctors following Cave's rapid deterioration--they were all fascinated by the adverse effects of the moon rock poisoning on the human body. They had simply never seen anything like this before. This was something new--something to be carefully studied. Around every turn was the chance for one of them to come up with a miracle cure, to save the day, to make sure that their experiment worked. They could just imagine the riches and the fame that they would gain if they could just find the right treatment. They could be the ones to save Cave Johnson. 

"I need  _ your _ help," said Cave. He needed her to listen to the doctors, to decide which treatments were right for him, and which ones to ignore. She had always been better at that kind of thing than he had. He didn’t trust the doctors. Objectively he knew that they were trying to help--but he just couldn’t bring himself to believe it. 

Caroline walked across the room, taking a moment to stare out of the picture windows at the edge of the bedroom. She stared out at the vastness of the facility, and then closed the blinds. 

"Hold on," she said, turning back to him. "Let me take your temperature." She picked through the rolling cart of medical equipment before finding a thermometer. She was no doctor, but she figured she knew how to take a temperature. 

Cave obliged, letting her stick the thermometer into his mouth for a few moments before the result came out on a digital screen. 98.6. Perfect. 

"Well, you're not feverish," she said. 

"Could've told you that myself." He hesitated, shifting in the bed. "You're doing it again." 

"Doing what?" 

"Trying to solve me." 

Caroline put the thermometer back on the cart, wiping it down. 

"That's your job, isn't it? Solving problems?" he said. 

"You're not a problem," said Caroline. He was right, though. Solving problems was her job, and right now she had a big one on her hands, too--trying to get them all out of this seventy million dollar hole that Cave Johnson had dug them all. 

"Then why are you treating me like one? Relax," he said, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. It didn't work, instead coming out raspy. The way that she looked at him--it was like he was a crying baby, and she was trying to figure out what would shut him up the quickest. 

Caroline needed to get back to work--she didn't have time for this. “Mr. Johnson, I need to ask you something else. The nurse told me--,” she paused, pain in her voice. “I need to know why you threatened to hurt yourself.” Caroline took a seat next to his bed. She didn’t understand. Why would he threaten to hurt himself, to take away what little time that he had left?

"Oh, that," Cave said, looking down. "I may have threatened to stab myself with some medical equipment." 

Caroline's brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.” 

"It got you down here, didn't it?" said Cave. 

Caroline hesitated. "Is that really what this is all about?" she said. 

Cave didn't answer, looking away for a moment. "You're never around," he said. "You only come down when something major happens.” When he passed out. When he coughed up too much blood. When he vomited after taking his medications. Asking her to come down never seemed to work. “So I thought--I thought I’d try something.” 

Caroline nodded, a wave of guilt and sadness ebbing at her stomach. She didn’t mean for this to happen--one day just passed after another until it had been a week, and by that point she was just too embarrassed to admit that the time had passed, which made her avoid Aperture Medical even more. 

“I feel like I’m losing you,” Cave said softly. The whirring and humming of the machines besides him almost drowned it out. Lately, every time she came in there, she got this look on her face. Like she couldn’t wait to get out of there. Like she was avoiding him. 

Caroline folded her hands in front of her lap. The truth was, Cave Johnson was exhausting. Every time she came down here, he was hurt, or he was angry, or he was sick. He was yelling or screaming or was convinced one of the doctors was trying to poison him. “It’s just hard for me to see you like this,” she said softly.

"Hard for you?" Cave said, incredulous. "What about for me? I'm the one that has to live this!" 

“I know,” she said with a sigh. She just wished things were back how they used to be. Before Cave Johnson got sick. Before she had a massive company to run. 

“It hurts so much, Caroline. Not having you down here.” 

“I have to do my job,” said Caroline. 

“Isn’t this a part of your job?” 

“Tell that to the investors upstairs,” Caroline grunted. “The ones I ran out on so I could come check on you.” She wasn’t a babysitter--they had people down here that they paid to watch Cave. That wasn’t her job. 

“Why are you working yourself so hard?” said Cave. There was a sincerity and a tenderness in his voice that Caroline didn’t remember hearing before. “Kid, I know you worked hard before, but this is unreasonable--even for you. I need you on your A-game.” 

Caroline didn’t answer. She didn’t need to answer. She had her work. It was her only way that she could deal with all of this--the only way that she could handle the pain of it all. Cave acted out; Caroline worked. “I need to do my job,” she said. She reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

Cave gave a soft sigh. “I understand,” he said. “Just don’t forget about me down here, okay?” 

Caroline sunk down further in her chair, closing her eyes for just a moment. The weight of the day hit her all at once. She just needed a moment, that was all. 

"Caroline, when's the last time you slept?"

Caroline jerked forward in the chair, having not even realized that she'd been nodding off until 

Mr. Johnson spoke to her. "Oh, um," she said. "I'm not sure." 

"Not sure." 

She was ashamed to admit it, but it was true. She simply didn't have time anymore for things like sleeping. Not when there was science to do. She yawned, her eyelids feeling heavy.

* * *

Caroline was asleep. 

That much Cave Johnson could tell. 

He took a moment to just watch her, slumped in the chair and breathing softly. He was scared to speak--he knew his voice would only make her angry. She needed her rest.

Cave Johnson shifted, quietly adjusting the pillows behind him. He wished that he could tell her everything, about how scared and how vulnerable he really felt. How much he missed her. How much he needed her. 

He wanted to whisper words to her, but stopped himself. Oh, what did it matter? It wouldn’t do any good. He knew he was a burden to her. He didn’t need to burden her with his love, too. The thought still rang through his head. 

_ I love you, Caroline.  _


End file.
